


the stars will shower down

by Carmailo



Series: Voltron One Shots [12]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Keith/Lance (Voltron), Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Happy Ending, Langst, M/M, Trigger Warning: Amputation, Trigger Warning: depression, nothing too graphic though, trigger warning: attempted suicide, trigger warning: suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 14:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13929432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmailo/pseuds/Carmailo
Summary: As most things do, it started out fine.He pretends nothing has changed.Because really, nothing has. At least, not to him.It’s not real, not yet.--Trigger Warnings: Attempted Suicide, Suicidal Tendencies/Thoughts (though the thoughts aren't outlined), Depression, Amputation.





	the stars will shower down

**Author's Note:**

> Please be sure you have read over the trigger warnings. Please let me know if I missed any in the comments!
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Attempted Suicide, Suicidal Tendencies/Thoughts (though the thoughts aren't outlined), Depression, Amputation.

///

As most things do, it started out fine.

He steps from the pod, and when one leg isn’t there to catch him, he falls. And that’s okay, injury occurs in battle. You lose things in war; it’s only natural.

He wasn’t supposed to wake up for at least a few more vargas, so no one was there to catch him. They were eating an exhausted dinner, somber as they tried not to think of what had been lost.

It was the only time that Coran had finally managed to convince all the other paladins to leave the med bay since the pod had been put into use, insisting that everything would be fine.

They find Lance less than half a varga after he falls, face pressed against the ground as he reaches for the calf that is no longer there.

He’s stricken, and it’s worse to see than when the appendage was lost.

They help him to his foot, wipe the blood from his nose, apologise profusely, run scans on him, hold him so he knows he’s loved, and spend the night with him, huddled around him as Coran plays a classic of Altean cinema.

Lance, having registered the missing leg but not having yet accepted it, laughs where he can and pretends nothing has changed.

Because really, nothing has. At least, not to him.

It’s not real, not yet.

Then the phantom pains come.

He’ll be in his bed, surrounded by his guilt-ridden teammates who he reassures are not at fault, as he’d jump in the way of an enemy any day for his family, when his leg will seize up with pain and he’ll reach for it, only to find his hands gripping at empty air as he cries out.

Shiro tries to understand, but he’s never truly experienced what Lance feels - his prosthetic arm had slotted so cleanly into his organic matter that his body barely noticed a difference, and the bionic appendage sent signals to his brain that felt just like nerves - anytime he felt anything that qualified as a phantom pain, they weren’t phantom - there was still an arm to grab. There was still an arm there. His time with the Galra was cloudy anyways; every experiment done to him had happened while he was barely cognisant. Shiro had lost the limb, but he’d regained it before the loss was even registered.

So instead, Lance leans into the person closest to him and squeezes his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth in an attempt to keep his pained noises contained, hands gripping at the stub that remains of his leg.

He doesn’t cry once, though, and it surprises the team, who converse with hushed voices after Lance has fallen into a fitful sleep on numerous occasions.

But they don’t linger in each other’s company long - Lance has asked not to be left alone for too long, and when he offers no explanation, Hunk suggests that Lance prefers the company as a distraction from his new impediment - and the heart-wrenching thoughts that come with it.

So, one teammate spends the entire night with Lance on the bed that they bring into his room, and help him when he needs. They take turns, and if sometimes one of them ask to take a double turn, no one complains; they’re all worried, and Lance is content to be around any and all of his comrades.

The first time there is a Galra attack after the accident, Keith, who still had yet to pilot Red again, stays with Lance and Coran in the castle.

The next time, Lance forces Keith to the hangar, and the title of _Red Paladin_ is restored to him.

The arrangement, Keith assures, is only temporary. They will find parts for Hunk and Pidge to build a prosthetic and Lance will be able to return to piloting his lion.

Lance nods along, though he’s already gotten the idea into his head that he is only wasting the team’s time and diverting resources from the war at hand.

This, however, he does not share, and it does not become clear until it is almost too late.

The night it happens, Keith is with Lance, and the two of them share a few jokes before bidding one another goodnight and falling asleep.

Keith wakes a few vargas later to the sound of water running, and light from the bathroom cutting smoothly across the room floor.

He’s up on his feet in less than a minute, taking note of the empty bed he passes, sheets disheveled and halfway to the floor.

When he pushes the bathroom door open, tentative so as not to intrude, no steam rushes out like when Lance usually showers. Instead, the air is clear. A glance at the bathtub clarifies that Lance is not bathing in the middle of the night.

Another glance in the opposite direction, and Keith sees the shower running, water falling in glittering jewels from the ceiling and right onto…

“ _Lance!_ ” Keith lunges at the shower door, tugging it open and reaching up to turn the water off. Slowly, as though his limbs have frozen, Lance turns his face, pale and devoid of it’s usual warm colour, up to Keith’s.

“K-K-Keith,” he chatters out, teeth clacking together violently.

Keith, to his credit, does not completely panic. Not at first. Instead, he lifts Lance, ice cold and soaking wet, from the shower and into his arms. The paladin is carried into the room with mild protests, insisting he can walk on his own, despite the tremors that rack up his spine and his clearly missing leg that he is still yet to get used to.

“Shut up,” Keith replies, but there’s no bite, only fear, “just… shut up.”

Lance seems content to clamp his mouth shut as best he can around the chattering, pressing closer to Keith in an attempt to regain warmth.

Keith sets Lance on the bed and gets to work stripping him of his clothing. The wet clothes land in a heap on the floor and Keith wraps Lance in the blanket before grabbing a towel. When he returns, Lance is resting his head against the wall, eyes drifting shut as his breaths even out.

Keith, with tendrils of panic squeezing his heart and making his hands tremble, shakes Lance, fear filtering onto his features. “Lance. Lance, no sleeping. Wake up.”

“I’m jus’ restin’ my eyes…” Lance slurs, but his eyes do not open.

“No. No resting your eyes. Awake. Now.” Slowly, Lance opens his eyes again, regarding Keith tiredly.

“Keith-”

“Shush,” Keith demands, unfolding the blue towel he’s found, “you’re changing, and then we’re going to the medbay.”

Towel unfolded, Keith begins drying Lance’s hair. It’s short, thank goodness, so it doesn’t take long before he’s satisfied and moving on to his shoulders. “You do the rest. I’ll get you a change of clothes.” Keith guides Lance’s hands to the towel before lightly squeezing his icy shoulder and heading to the wardrobe in search of new, dry clothing.

He comes back to Lance struggling with the towel, fingers stiff and clumsy with the chill in his bones. “That’s enough,” Keith says softly, taking the towel. He dries Lance from the waist up before pulling a dry shirt over his head.

His hair puffs up, and Keith thinks it might be funny under different circumstances.

With the top half done, Keith dries Lance’s legs off. Keith dutifully helps Lance into new pants, and then the two of them are making their way down the residential hall, Lance on Keith’s back.

Much to Lance’s dismay, who protests he’s _fine, Keith, c’mon,_ Keith yells loudly for everyone to wake, kicking on Shiro’s door and banging his knee against Hunk’s.

The two of them emerge, bedraggled and surprised, only to start at Lance’s sorry state, sneezing and sniffling as he tries to regain his bearings.

“What happened?” Shiro demands immediately, to which Keith shakes his head, huffs out a “I’m not sure,” and shifts Lance so Shiro, ever the stronger, can take him. “To the medbay.”

Shiro nods, holding out his arms, “you two go get the others. I’ll take Lance there.”

“I’ll get Allura and Coran,” Keith nods to Hunk, and takes off to the hall where the Alteans reside.

Hunk, shaken quiet with concern, nods back before heading in the opposite direction for Pidge, still up late working on something in the lab.

When Coran emerges, still in his uniform but looking more tired than during the day, Keith only hesitates a second before panting out, “it’s Lance. Medbay.”

Coran barely acknowledges the words before he’s halfway down the hall to the medbay, breaking into a brisk walk.

He bangs on Allura’s door next, and when she appears, he grabs her hand and starts running to the medbay, to her surprise but not protest. “Lance, medbay,” Keith offers by way of explanation, letting the princess go. But by then, though, she’s already recognized the hallways they’re running down and is using her shapeshifting to extend her legs and get there faster. So Keith sprints, desperation to be wrong about what had happened rising up in his chest and turning into nervous energy.

When they reach the bay, both short of breath and eyes wild, they take a moment to compose themselves, swallowing thickly and brushing hair from their faces.

“Keith,” Shiro greets immediately, “what’s going on?”

Keith shakes his head, putting Shiro off for another moment as he approaches Lance, still breathing heavily. “Lance,” he starts, and then his voice breaks, “what were trying to do?”

Lance holds Keith’s gaze for a short moment before he looks away. “I thought it’d be... better, I guess.” he murmurs, voice low and brow furrowing with words unsaid.

Keith lets out a big breath, his own brows pinching, “Lance…”

Lance looks away, ashamed, so Keith gently pulls him against his collarbone, one hand cradling Lance’s head and the other rubbing his back as best he can from his position. Lance sighs half-heartedly, bringing his arms around Keith’s waist.

“That would be worse. So, _so_ much worse,” Keith breathes, pressing his nose into Lance’s still-damp hair.

Coran sits next to Lance, patting the paladin’s knee reassuringly.

Keith doesn’t think he’s ever seen Coran sit before. It strikes him suddenly how tired the advisor seems. His eyes are heavy with the weight of worlds.

Coran opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes. For a long moment, he looks lost before his mouth shuts with a resigned breath and he presses himself closer to Lance. Lance, still holding tightly to Keith, leans into Coran, and the three of them share a hug, Lance still shuddering. A moment passes before the rest of the team has crowded around Lance, adding to the warm embrace.

They stay like that a while, arms tangled as they hold each other together, tied in the center by Lance.

And then Coran gently reminds that they ought to run scans on Lance to ensure that he’s okay - at this, Keith explains the situation in a quiet voice to Shiro, who nods solemnly before patting Keith on the back and letting him sit with Lance. Keith trusts Shiro to tell the others what had happened.

“Your shirt’s still wet,” Lance remarks, and Keith frowns, having forgotten about the shirt completely. The reminder has him shivering suddenly, reaching down to tug the cloth off before leaning into Lance in a way he hopes provides some semblance of comfort.

“Lance, you know you can talk to me, right?” Keith asks softly, trying not to let how distraught he is come to the surface. “Any of us.”

“I know, Keith. I just… sometimes I just have to - _want to_ \- figure things out myself, y’know?” Lance rests his head on Keith’s shoulder, and Keith brings his arm around Lance’s back, humming in understanding.

“I get that. But if it’s hard to talk about, or you don’t want to, you can just ask for comfort, okay? And if things are this bad and you’re having a hard time convincing yourself it’s worth it, you can come and get one of us.” Keith lets his head rest on Lance’s. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier.”

Remorse hits Keith tenfold, his mind running through the events of that day. The way Lance was a little bit off at dinner and Keith had chalked it up to him being tired because he isn’t sleeping much, the fake smiles Lance was giving that Keith had assumed were so tight due to the pain in his leg… Keith’s arm tightens around Lance’s back, and he apologizes again, “I’m so sorry.”

“All finished up,” Coran chirps, saving Lance from formulating a response, “Lance might experience an illness from the cold, but we’ve definitely got something here that’ll clear it all up. He seemed to have been going into shock earlier, but he’s alright now. Not to worry.” Coran reaches out to squeeze Lance’s shoulder. “Now everyone off to bed. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

“We should check the scans again, should we not?” Allura inquires, glancing at Lance.

“You’re welcome to stay up with me, Princess. I do think that Lance should get some sleep, though. Keith?” Coran gives Keith a small smile, and Keith nods, helping Lance up. Coran has asked to have a private conversation with the rest of the paladins without outright saying it, and he has asked Keith to help Lance piece himself back together.

“I need a wheelchair,” Lance mumbles, offering a half-hearted grin.

“I’ll be your wheelchair,” Keith jokes, scooping Lance into his arms.

Lance, if he still had two full legs and a will to live, probably would’ve revelled in being carried. But instead, he presses his face against Keith’s neck in embarrassment. “You don’t have to carry me,” he whispers, knowing full well that Keith sort of does.

But instead, as the doors close behind Keith, he presses a kiss to Lance’s head and hums in agreement, “I know.”

///

Keith can’t sleep.

It’s not an unusual occurrence, but now it’s not because he can’t manage to turn his mind off. Now, he’s buzzing with apprehension, his mind running over _what if_ s and _if only_ s.

So instead of sleeping, he lies on his side on the cot, watching Lance.

In fact, Keith doesn’t think he _could_ sleep, even if he wasn’t as wired as he is now. Lance had, essentially, become a threat to himself, and watching the paladin was something that Keith found suddenly innate, needing to be fine-tuned to Lance’s every move.

At the current moment, Lance’s shoulders are hunched and his back is turned to Keith, breaths coming ragged even as he tries to steady them.

Half a varga of watching later, Keith has had enough, so he gets up and sets himself down on the edge of Lance’s bed, reaching out a hand to card through his hair. The mattress dips with Keith’s weight, and Lance shifts unconsciously toward him.

He turns his face to Keith, a frown on his lips, brow furrowed and eyes shining. Keith shifts his hand to hold Lance’s face.

“Keith,” he whispers, small and broken, “I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.”

“No, no,” Keith shakes his head, helping Lance as he sits up, “it’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay. No one’s mad.”

Lance turns, kneeling with his good leg and the other flat on the mattress, which sets him on a tilt, but his posture corrects the imbalance and he doesn’t seem to notice. Lance grips the front of Keith’s shirt, which is actually his own, and presses his face into the material. Keith is quick to pull Lance against him tightly, reassuring. He tries to make his grip as loving as he can, tries to show Lance that he’s important and it’s okay that he’s sad because even though he’s hurting, he’s healing, and that takes time.

“Lance, please don’t do that again,” Keith murmurs, fighting tears.

All at once, the events that had brought Keith to this moment hit him, and he’s caught breathless, holding Lance even closer. “Lance we- we could’ve lost you, _I_ could’ve lost you-” Keith breaks off, pressing his face more firmly against Lance’s head. “I can’t lose you,” he says, and his voice comes out thick, throat clenching painfully with the effort of not letting himself cry. “Don’t do that again, please,” Keith begs, taking Lance’s face in his hands and pulling him back to make eye contact.

Idly, he finds it interesting that the reality of a situation, even one as terrifying as their current one, never fully hits until after the fact.

“I’ll do it right next time.” Lance blurts, and then his eyes go wide and his hands rush to cover his mouth.

Keith’s hands reel away from Lance in surprise, eyes blown wider than Lance’s as he processes the words.

A tear slips from Keith’s eye, and the sight of it rolling down his cheek seems to startle Lance more than his words.

“No- I- Keith- I didn’t mean-” Lance breaks off, letting go of his face and instead wrapping his arms around his torso, as if holding himself together. “What is _wrong_ with me?” he whispers harshly, hunching his shoulders, trying to make himself smaller.

“Nothing, Lance, nothing. Nothing’s wrong with you,” Keith assures, voice watery as shaking hands reach out to hold Lance’s shoulders, even as more tears pool in his eyes and slide down his cheeks, blurring his vision, “nothing’s wrong with you, Lance.”

“Then why am I so bent on dying being the only way to fix this?” he asks, giving Keith his full gaze. His eyes are wet, and Keith realizes that it’s the first time he’s seen the taller boy with tears in his eyes. “Why do I want to leave you guys?” he asks, and the tears finally fall, pent up since before the loss of his leg, his liquid emotions kept inside since that first night at the Garrison where he’d ached sourly for his family, shaking into the dead of night and soaking his pillow.

Keith is caught in the sight of his fellow paladin, his friend, his _significant other,_ falling apart. His hands come back to Lance’s face, pads of his thumbs swiping at the falling tears.

“Why?” Lance asks again, a sob breaking from his throat. He sets his mouth firmly, pressing his forehead against Keith’s. “Why am I so fucked up?”

“You’re not, Lance,” Keith murmurs, tracing shapes onto Lance’s cheeks with his thumbs, “you’re not fucked up. You’re just hurting. It’s not fair that you don’t get the time you need to heal.”

“I just- if we were on Earth, it’d be fine. There’s no _war_ to fight on Earth. We’re wasting so much time on finding me a new leg - a fucking _leg, Keith_ \- and we could be spending it on gathering resources for fighting the Galra.” Lance pulls back, hands coming up in the air between them expressively. Keith lets his hands come to rest onto Lance’s thighs, listening intently. “I just- I feel like I’m wasting Voltron’s time and it just- it _doesn’t feel good,_ Keith.” Lance lets his hands fall, his posture deflating with the confession.

“I know you’re worried, but… we’re all family, Lance.” Keith wipes at his own face, no longer crying, before he reaches for Lance’s hands, taking them in his own. “You have a big family, so you know what it’s like when one of you get hurt. It doesn’t matter how long it takes - you’re gonna be there for one another, right?”

Lance, tears long since dried, nods with a sniffle.

“So, what’s the difference here?” Keith squeezes Lance’s hands lightly. “You’re not slowing us down. If you hadn’t done what you did, Pidge would probably be… well, dead.”

Lance, still frowning, nods once more. “Look,” Keith starts again, “I’ve never really had a family before. At least not a big, loving one like what we have now. But I’ve learned that we’re all there for one another, no matter what. And if one of us loses a leg, we’re all gonna be there for them. You’re not a burden, Lance. You’re important. Your value hasn’t changed.” Keith tries to smile, but it comes out as a tight frown that drops a second later. “And you’ve always been so valuable.”

Lance tugs lightly on Keith’s hands, pulling him closer. “Thanks, Keith,” he whispers, dropping his head onto Keith’s shoulder.

“Just come to one of us if you ever feel badly, alright?” Keith pulls back far enough to make eye contact with Lance, “we care about you, okay? And we’re more than happy to help. Or listen.”

Lance nods, “yeah. Okay. Thank you.” His hands find Keith’s face, brushing away locks of dark hair. Keith puts his own hands over Lance’s, smiling softly.

“I’m so tired,” Lance murmurs after a moment, “could we sleep?”

Keith nods, and Lance smiles. Then, hesitantly, as though expecting Keith to immediately refuse, “do you… could you sleep here? With me? Instead of on the other bed?”

Keith raises his eyebrows in surprise. The two of them hadn’t shared the same bed since before Lance had lost his leg. Keith had refrained from joining Lance because the latter had asked him not to, as he sometimes had phantom pains in the middle of the night, and the last thing he wanted was to jostle Keith in his haste to grip at the space his leg had once occupied. The reasoning was a lie, and Keith knew that it was actually because Lance couldn’t stand the thought of only being able to tangle one leg with Keith’s two.

“Of course,” Keith says, “yeah. Yeah, I’d love to.”

Lance shifts over, lifting the covers for Keith, who immediately holds his arms out for Lance once he’s on the bed. Lance smiles, content to bury himself in the safety of Keith’s embrace.

“Did you know you’re beautiful?” Lance asks, face inches from Keith’s.

Keith gives a small laugh, “not as beautiful as you.”

Lance scoffs dramatically, feigning indignance. “Of course not. No one’s as beautiful as me.” Keith laughs at the sudden confidence, glad that Lance is feeling at least marginally better, even if it might be a facade he’s putting up to create a sense of normalcy.

“That’s right,” Keith replies, brushing Lance’s hair behind his ear. A single lock won’t stay, and he plays with it, trying to tuck it away. “I have the most beautifullest boyfriend.”

“That’s right, babe, invent words to describe how gorgeous I am,” Lance says, laughing softly.

“So gorgeousest, much prettiester.” Keith whispers, a yawn clipping the end of his sentence.

“And even in meme format. I’m a lucky man,” Lance says, nodding tiredly.

“Only the best for you,” Keith smiles.

The two fall silent, warm and happy in one another’s holds. Their breaths even out, and Keith is on the edge of sleep when Lance murmurs, “I love you, Keith.”

“I love you, too,” Keith answers, running his hands through Lance’s hair, “we all do. Try to remember that, yeah?”

Lance nods, “yeah.”

That night, Lance doesn’t wake up to phantom pains for the first time in weeks.

///

“Mentally unstable?” Hunk repeats, blinking at Pidge.

“Well, not _unstable,_ per sé, just not… stable.” she shrugs, flicking through scans that Allura has attempted to translate into English. They probably would’ve been more accurate had Lance been there, but no one complains and they make due. The light from the holograms reflect onto her glasses, tinting her a hue of blue.

“I’m sorry, this is because why, again?” Shiro asks, leaning over Pidge’s shoulder.

“Long explanation, but. His serotonin levels,” Pidge points to a bar, “are incredibly low. I didn’t study much in human biology, but, going off of my random middle-of-the-night google-fests, low levels of serotonin can lead to depression, anxiety and panic attacks.” Pidge ticks the symptoms off on her fingers, holding them up. “And a lot of other emotional and mental issues. Like forgetfulness and phobias. Also it can lead to food cravings.”

“And what causes low... serotoner?” Coran asks, twisting the edge of his moustache around his finger.

“Serotonin. And for humans, if I’m not mistaken, stress, a genetically impaired digestive tract, a bad diet, toxic substances, and hormone changes. Lack of sunlight can be a factor, too, I think.” Pidge holds her chin thoughtfully, considering this.

“If that’s true, shouldn’t you all be experiencing some level of low serotonin?” Allura asks. “There isn’t really an abundance of sunlight in space.” 

“Yes, we should. And we are. But we’ve managed to adapt. Our bodies are changing for our current circumstances.”

“What, really?” Shiro asks, surprised.

“Well, I only have the little things I’ve noticed about myself to go off, but our circadian rhythms have changed. So, not scientifically, no, but our bodies _are_ functioning fine without the serotonin we’d usually have. Also because we’re exercising on the daily. So we’re releasing endorphins and what not. Which helps combat the depressive part.” Pidge flicks a finger across the screen, squinting as she analyzes something else. “Basically, I’m saying that Lance is depressed. To an extreme degree.”

“What’s… “depressed”?” Allura asks, lips pursing at the phrase.

“He’s… unhappy. But ridiculously so. Something in his brain is making him feel that way. Depression is a mental disease, and his mind can’t really… break out of it, I guess. So he’s not choosing to be unhappy, his mind is forcing him to be. Serotonin has been connected to depression in the past, so it’s safe to assume that his mental state is having an effect on his serotonin levels and vice versa.” Pidge pushes her glasses into her hair, rubbing her eyes. “And on top of all that, he’s seemingly suicidal.”

Hunk frowns at the words, as though hearing them aloud made it that much worse. “Meaning…?” Coran prompts, looking between the paladins.

“He wants to kill himself. Wants to commit the act of suicide.” Pidge explains bluntly, sighing heavily. “Also a result of his depression.” Shiro rests a hand on her shoulder, a wordless promise to relieve her of having to provide any further explanation on such gruesome topics.

“That wasn’t unheard of on Altea,” Allura says softly, eyes downcast as she frowns.

“So, how do we help him?” Pidge asks, adjusting her glasses. “I can get the scientific aspect of things, but I’m not too sure about the inner workings of Lance’s mind when he’s like this.”

“Hunk? You’ve known Lance for a long time, right?” Shiro asks, turning to his comrade.

Hunk considers the situation for a moment before offering his point of view. “See, it’s because of his leg, we all know that.” the team nods and hums in agreement, “but what you guys probably don’t realize, is he’s not depressed over losing his leg. Lance is someone who always wants to feel wanted. He’s probably feeling pretty useless right about now.”

“Lance is feeling… useless?” Allura repeats, cocking her head as she tries to comprehend.

“You’re saying that he thinks that not being able to contribute because of circumstances _outside of his hands,_ he feels like… he’s weighing us down?” Pidge asks.

“Essentially, yeah. Lance is a selfless person. Under his big ego and confident attitude he’s actually super self-conscious. And hyper-aware of where he falls short. If I was him, I’d think that I was slowing down the team and getting in the way. I’d feel like I was keeping Keith from the Blade, and that I was taking up too much time by making the team search for parts for a leg.” Hunk crosses his arms. “We can’t drag him out of the figurative hole he’s dug himself into. What we _can_ do is make sure we’re there for him, and try to be understanding if he decides to talk to one of us.”

“So just… act normal?” Shiro asks, brow furrowing.

“More or less, yeah. But Lance is the impulsive type - if he’s thinking to himself that he’s better off not being there, and at the same time he sees an out, he’ll take it with little hesitation.” Hunk brushes his hair out of his eyes, absently wishing he had his headband.

“For him, walking past the airlock can have him going on a downwards spiral until the door is open and he’s in space. We need to make some sort of way for us to not control, but be mindful of him at all times.”

“So we’ll need to create some rules, is what you’re proposing?” Allura clarifies.

“Sort of. Stuff like we can’t let him be alone for long periods of time. Whoever’s with him at night needs to be always alert.” Hunk sighs, “we can’t have a repeat of tonight.” He brings his hand to his chin, “if Keith’s sleeping with Lance again - don’t look at me like that, Pidge, you know what I mean - that second problem is cleared up.”

Pidge sits down on the step below, crossing her legs kindergartener-style as she fights a yawn. “But Keith can’t always be here, and we can’t just dump all the responsibility on him.”

“That is true,” Allura agrees, joining Pidge on the floor, “but perhaps we could come up with a buddy system, of sorts? Have someone with him at all times. Or have him be required to check in with one us after a set period of time.”

“I think that might work.” Shiro agrees, putting a hand on Hunk’s shoulder, “what do you think?”

“As long as we let him know that we’re doing it, he’ll be fine with it. If we do it behind his back, he _will_ find out, and he’ll be very upset. So. Yeah. We’ll talk to him in the morning, see what he thinks. And Keith, too.”

Shiro nods. “Speaking of which, I’ll go check up on the two of them. The rest of you should get some sleep.”

A chorus of agreements arises, with Coran helping Allura and Pidge to their feet before guiding them from the room. Hunk and Shiro follow at a leisurely pace, content to be in one another’s company.

The two of them have had little one-on-one time, especially in the wake of Lance’s leg, so they’re not very familiar with each other. But all of their time forming Voltron has brought them together, and the two are able to connect on a level that can’t be reached with only speaking; they’re practically in one another’s brains.

“Shiro,” Hunk starts, and he almost seems nervous, “Lance looks up to you in a way that I can’t really explain, as I’m sure you know, but, if it’s not too much to ask, would you mind talking to him?”

“Anything to help.” Shiro agrees immediately, “what do you think I should say?”

Hunk considers this for a moment, cocking his head. “Maybe just… let him know he’s valuable? Lance tries his best to get everyone’s acceptance, and any praise from you really riles him up.” At Shiro’s small smile, Hunk adds, “in the best way.”

Shiro gives a full smile then, issuing one of his standard _“good talk”_ pats to Hunk’s back. “I can do that. If there’s anything else I can do, let me know. I don’t think Lance realizes how much he matters to me, even if we don’t always talk one-to-one.”

“He starts to feel unwanted or disliked,” Hunk explains. “Or annoying.”

“I see,” Shiro nods, the two of them coming to a stop at Hunk’s door, “thanks for letting me know. ‘Night, Hunk.” Shiro lets his hand brush against Hunk’s shoulder as he continues a few feet down the hall to Lance’s room.

“Try and get some sleep for once,” Hunk replies, “goodnight, Shiro.”

Shiro laughs good naturedly, waving Hunk off as the yellow paladin disappears into his room for the rest of the night.

Shiro’s smile drops, however, when he turns to Lance’s door. The memory of what had happened earlier was a damp spot on the shoulder of his shirt where Lance had rested his head. Hesitant to disturb Lance and Keith, unsure of where they are in their conversation, Shiro presses his ear against the door.

Of course, he hears nothing. The walls, while not completely soundproof, do manage to block out conversation at regular volumes. But Keith and Lance are not ones to have conversations at regular volume; Lance was loud as it was, but the two sometimes bickered loudly, even now that they were dating, and when Lance was particularly enthusiastic, Keith found it difficult to contain himself, and often joined in the excitement. Not that Shiro minded - they were children, after all. If they could continue to live as such even through the intergalactic war they fought, he would consider it a blessing. And who was he to stop children from being children? Besides, Keith hadn’t had a proper childhood, and was always slow to come out of his shell. His fellow paladins had helped him become more sociable, all while rounding him into an even better person than he already was. It was incredible to watch, so Shiro would take a headache from noise over seeing a single socially anxious look cross Keith’s face any hour of the day.

Softly, Shiro taps his knuckles against the door. The screen on the other side will light up, alerting the room’s inhabitants to a guest. When no answer comes, Shiro tries once more, hoping that the two adolescents are just sleeping, instead of engaging in some sort of sexual activity that he did not want to walk in on. God, or some other high deity, knows he already has before.

Though, if it were the latter, the two would likely have stopped at the knocking… Shiro squeezes his eyes shut, dispelling the thought from his mind.

Pursing his lips in hope of walking in on a scene that is strictly G-rated, Shiro taps on the panel next to the door, watching as it comes to life, displaying that the door is, in fact, unlocked. A short wave of relief runs through Shiro. The door is to be clearly locked when anyone needs privacy. Shiro had used the function numerous times in the dead of night to keep the others out in case he had a nightmare, prosthetic arm glowing as he swung out in his sleep. He’d used it when Keith had come to him, shaking after a high-intensity day spent with the Blade. And he’d used it when he was overcome with visions of a past he could barely recall and felt weak beyond words.

And Keith and Lance, to their credit, do a good job of locking the door. Most of the time. It was the “making out in the main lounge at random times of day” part that needed work.

Steeling himself for the worst, Shiro presses the release on the door, the panel sliding smoothly to provide entrance. Panic courses through him when he notices the cot empty, but it’s quickly soothed when he turns to Lance’s bed and finds both paladins curled in an embrace. Their talk must have been effective, then. They had refrained from romantic contact since Lance had lost his leg, a rift that Shiro understands perfectly well arising between the two as Lance became more self-conscious. Perhaps now they would start kicking one another under the dining table again, too. Maybe Lance would start demanding Keith feed him, and then he’d be draping himself over the table, trying to convince the other paladins to feed him. It was funny how many little occurrences had stopped happening since Lance’s injury.

It was funny how many of those little occurrences were Lance’s doing.

Smiling to himself, Shiro pulls the covers back over the two from where they had somehow sunk down past their waists. Keith stirs, and Shiro freezes, trying to slow his breathing so it isn’t quite so loud. He fails to keep Keith asleep however, because the teen mumbles, “Shiro?” and looks up at the black paladin.

“Yeah, it’s just me. Go back to sleep, Keith.” Shiro pats Keith’s head softly before turning away, about to leave the room and retire for the evening.

Keith seems to murmur something else, too softly for Shiro to hear, and then turns back to Lance, drawing the taller boy to his chest again.

Shiro smiles at the sight, idly considering taking a photo to show the two of them the next time they had one of their petty arguments. Instead, though, Shiro decides to retire for the evening, his exhaustion catching up to him. His feet catch on something wet though, and a glance down confirms it’s Lance’s pajamas from earlier. The smile fades as he reaches down to pick the pile up. He spends a moment with the lump in his hands before he’s headed to Lance’s hamper, in the bathroom. Shiro steps on the part of the floor that opens the bathroom door up when weighted, but nothing happens, so he reaches for the screen. It wasn’t unusual for certain functions of the castle to fail; after all, it _is_ over ten thousand years old.

It turns on, blinking a passcode lock. Shiro’s brow furrows in confusion. Why would Lance have a passcode lock on his own bathroom door? It’s not like the others don’t have bathrooms, and nothing personal is kept in a _bathroom_. And it’s utterly un-Lance-like to lock a door that doesn’t need to be.

It dawns on Shiro, then, that perhaps Keith was the one to set a passcode.

Shiro looks at the screen again, reading the print that fades in and out of sight lazily.

_Three failed attempts triggers an alarm._

_Oh,_ Shiro thinks.

Lance must not know the code, and he can’t get into the bathroom without it. Failed attempts would set off an alarm that would wake up whoever was with him that night. If his desperation ever got the most of him and had him reaching for some out in the bathroom, he might try the code more than once until an alarm was blaring and waking the paladin with him.

It’s not a permanent fix, and there are so many other ways Lance could hurt himself that weren’t contained to the bathroom, but the gesture is one that will keep their beloved blue paladin from doing something dangerous where no one can see him. It’s a desperate attempt to keep Lance safe on Keith’s part, and it almost makes Shiro feel able to rest easy.

Setting the clothing down on the floor near the bathroom, Shiro sighs softly before casting his fellow paladins another glance and leaving them for the night.

///

Lance wakes up before Keith.

It’s an oddity in the fact that Lance _never_ wakes up before Keith. Keith is the sort of person who was up at the crack of dawn on Earth. His internal clock had never been completely dislodged in space, and so he was always up at some hour that Lance thought to be ungodly early.

But for once, Lance is awake before Keith, and, once the surprise wears down and he suddenly feels flooded with serenity, he takes full advantage of the fact.

Careful so as not to jostle Keith, he shifts so his head is propped on his hand, elbow bent on the mattress to raise himself up. And he watches Keith, in a lovesick state that makes him feel unable to do anything but focus his gaze upon his lover.

He admires the way Keith’s eyelashes fan out against his cheeks, revels in the view of his hair cast messily around his head, like a dark halo of sorts. _Keith is beautiful,_ Lance thinks, though not for the first time.

Tentative, Lance reaches out for Keith’s cheek. The pad of his thumb comes to rest on Keith’s pale cheekbone, his palm to cup the side of his face. Keith murmurs wordlessly in his sleep, tilting ever so slightly into the hand. Lance smiles. Not only is Keith beautiful, he’s also _adorable_.

All at once, then, Keith rolls into a turn before slinging an arm around Lance’s waist and pulling him down onto the bed. Lance’s arm feels sore, and he wonders how long he’d been staring for. “Did I wake you?” he asks, voice soft in the serene quiet of the morning.

Keith shakes his head against Lance’s chest, “mm-mm.”

Lance feels himself smile again, reaching now for the nape of Keith’s neck, fingers delving into the hair there, pressing against Keith’s scalp, rubbing and scratching gently. Keith hums in response, pressing his head a little closer to Lance. Soft tufts of inky hair tickle at his nose, and Lance fights a sneeze, bring his hand up to smooth Keith’s hair down.

“How’d you sleep?” Lance asks after a while, pressing a kiss against Keith’s head.

“Better than in a long time,” Keith replies, shifting his face to look at Lance. His hand comes between them and onto Lance’s cheek. “I missed this,” he murmurs.

Lance feels his smile tighten a little. “Me, too.”

A silence hangs heavy in the air before Lance adds, “I’m sorry I pushed you away.”

“It’s okay. You were - still are - trying to figure things out. It’s okay.” Keith shifts again, stretching his neck to peer at Lance with tired eyes. “I overslept.” he tacks on.

Lance gives a small laugh at this, the tone low with fatigue. “And I underslept,” he counters.

Keith’s responding laugh makes Lance’s heart soar, his heartstrings tugging at the sudden rush of love that demands to be known. It makes Lance wrap both arms around Keith’s waist and pull him on top of himself, holding Keith fast while rocking back and forth. Keith yelps in surprise, but the sound soon contorts into more laughter, joining Lance’s and filling the quiet room with affection in the form of sound.

“I love you, Keith,” Lance says, and Keith’s laugh to the words rings like a silver bell, clear and ever-so pleasant to the ear.

Lance, his own laughter bubbling up in his chest, peppers Keith’s face with kisses, Keith scrunching up his nose at the onslaught.

And they stay like that awhile, Keith propped on Lance’s chest and Lance holding Keith securely in place with his arms around his waist.

Keith traces tiny circles on Lance’s chest, and Lance is comfortable to just study the planes of Keith’s face. The rounded chin and sharp eyes, the cheeks that have slowly been hollowing out as he matures into an adult.

“Keith,” Lance says, drawing his fellow paladin’s attention, “you’re gorgeous.”

Keith stares at Lance for a second before his face floods with colour and he drops it onto Lance’s chest, hands curling softly in the material of his shirt. He says something that comes out muffled, the syllables humming in Lance’s ribcage.

“Hmm?” Lance hums, now playing with Keith’s hair.

Keith lifts his head enough to say, “shut up,” and drops it back onto Lance’s chest.

Lance laughs, “don’t be so shy, beautiful.”

Keith just grumbles something else, and they stay like for even longer, until Keith’s breaths even out and he seems to be falling asleep again.

“I’m gonna go start my routine,” Lance hums pleasantly, “don’t fall asleep, I want some company while I do it.”

“Do I have to get up?” Keith ask, but shifts over Lance, so that his back is to the wall and Lance can get out of bed.

“As long as you don’t fall asleep.”

Lance sets himself on the edge of the bed, a moment away from standing to his feet and stretching.

And then he recalls that he’s one leg short, so he twists in place and plants a kiss to Keith’s hair.

He hoists himself up and then hobbles, with the help of the wall, to the bathroom door.

It doesn’t slide open upon Lance’s weight, and his brow raises in surprise, “huh.”

“What happened?” Keith asks from the bed, face still pressed firmly into the sheets.

Lance leans over to press at the screen next to the door. “Door’s not…” he stops, pausing at the message the screen flashes, “...working.”

“Not working? Oh- Lance-”

“Keith, why is there a passcode lock on my bathroom?”

///

Lance frowns, clearly unhappy.

“So you’re gonna be babysitting me, basically.”

“I mean, you could put it that way, sure,” Pidge says, adjusting her glasses. She turns back to her laptop, Shiro scoffing with exasperation.

All seven of them are gathered in the main lounge, strewn about the seats as though it’s any other day. Lance has his arm around Keith’s shoulders, the two of them pressed together, Lance’s full leg against one of Keith’s.

Pidge, meanwhile, sits across from them, typing furiously on her laptop.

“Don’t think of it that way,” Hunk says instead, from his spot on next to Pidge, “and it’s not permanent.”

“Still…” Lance trails off, grimacing as he thinks about it.

They had introduced a set of “rules” to Lance: he was not to be alone for longer than thirty minutes. If he required designated alone time, he was to check in with others at least once a varga, and his position had to be made clear. If he was going to roam the castle halls, Pidge had rigged a tracker he would take with him that would tell the team of Lance’s whereabouts. If he was anxious or feeling the same emotions that had led him into that cold shower, Lance was to seek out another teammate. He was not required to share what he was feeling, only express that he was in need of comfort.

The day had started off so great; Keith in his arms, happy kisses and warm smiles. Then there was the passcode that Keith had put on the door, which, if he was being honest, Lance appreciated and understood, even if it sort of pissed him off. The actual lock hadn’t thrown off his mood that much, though. No, it was the tears that pooled in Keith’s eyes as he rambled out an explanation. The tears that had fallen when Lance had thanked him, said that it was a necessary precaution. The way that Keith had turned to him and exclaimed, _“it shouldn’t be necessary!”_ with concern cracking his every word.

And the rules themselves weren’t that _bad,_ Lance knew, they could be worse, but the fact that they had to be instilled at all rattled him. How could he have been so stupid to do that? But that thought quickly turned into, _I’m so stupid, I’m so stupid, I’m so stupid,_ which only led him to feel worse.

Lance sighs heavily and pulls Keith a little bit closer.

Keith, whose eyes were still red and puffy. Keith, who had not yet kissed him on the lips since before the accident. Keith, who had held Lance the entire night and whispered promises into his ears about how things would _be better tomorrow, you’ll see._

Keith turns into the embrace, both arms around Lance’s torso.

“I mean, I’ll do it, yeah, but when’s it gonna stop?” Lance inquires, the arm around Keith shifting so his hand can play with his hair.

“When we see a difference. When you think you’re okay.”

Lance looks up at Shiro, perplexed. “What, I get to decide?”

“Well, yeah,” Hunk says, “who’s a better judge than yourself?”

“I mean, last night I was judging how easy it would be to hop over to the airlock, so…” Lance sets his mouth in a line.

Keith lets out a little puff of air from beside him, part incredulous and part upset. “Sorry,” Lance says to him, pressing the bottom half of his face into dark hair.

“Lance, we… We just want what’s best for you. And we’ll go to extreme lengths to get what you need. What Shiro means is you come to us when you think you’re ready. And we’ll decide then.” Allura, who sits on Lance’s other side, brings a delicate hand onto his shoulder. She gives him a small smile, but her eyes are tight.

“Allura’s right,” Coran says, “your recovery is at the forefront of our minds.”

“Recovery,” Lance repeats, but his voice is lost somewhere in the tangle of Keith’s hair. Instead, he lifts his head and pastes on the best smile he can, “thanks, guys.”

“And the best part is,” Hunk starts, “Pidge and I _may_ have figured out how to build you a prosthetic that will respond to your nerves.”

“No way,” Lance says, all his stress suddenly forgotten. He perks up instantly, and Keith straightens, too.

“We just need the parts,” Pidge says, trying to feign indifference but still smiling at Lance, “we’re headed to a swap moon in a bit.”

Lance laughs, disbelieving. “No _way,_ you guys!”

“Yes way,” Hunk replies, smug even as he smiles at Lance.

“Ah- come here! I can’t get up to give you all hugs.” Lance holds out his arms, and, with help from Keith, stands on his leg.

He’s surrounded in less than a moment, everyone holding tight to one another.

It’s a happy moment, and Lance is sure this is one of those life-altering moments. For a brief second, the team is held together by the promise of one of them recovering from a traumatic injury. It’s uniting, and it’s wonderful.

Lance laughs, and then everyone’s laughing, and there’s cheering, and maybe Coran is asking Allura if he should break out the nunvil.

And it’s good.

And they’re happy.

Lance is reminded that he’s forgotten what it’s like to smile so hard and for so long, because before he goes back to his room that night, he notices his cheeks are sore.

///

The days after that sort of blur together.

There isn’t much for Lance to do, so he naps and runs through his beauty routines like no tomorrow.

And when that gets boring, he asks Allura for books from the castle library, and the two of them pour over novels together, Allura helping Lance read the difficult words, and Lance impressing her with how fast he picks the language up.

But sometimes Allura is busy, and those days Lance demands Hunk carry him on his back to the workshop where he’s working. Pidge is there, too, sometimes, and Lance teases her until she’s punching him in the gut. But he always finds a way to be helpful, and the two are sure to remind him of that.

And on days where Pidge and Hunk can’t be bothered to work on new tech, Lance spends time with Shiro, mostly cracking stupid jokes as the two of them look over star maps. Lance learns how to gauge distances, and Shiro praises him when he finds things that were not previously seen. They have conversations that Lance is glad to have. They talk about everything and nothing at once, and Lance finds himself feeling important, because Shiro makes sure to tell him he is. At one point, Lance even convinces Shiro to dab, and he chatters excitedly about it at dinner. No one believes him, and Shiro denies it with a sly smile and suspiciously downcast eyes, leaving two very confused Alteans and Lance incredulous in the best of ways.

Sometimes Lance helps Coran with chores, scrubbing out pods and cleaning up forgotten corridors with the older man. They fix up parts of the castle that Coran had been meaning to attend to. Coran is glad to have company for once, and Lance loves hearing old Altean fables. He practices his Altean with Coran, and he is more than happy to oblige, speaking in an odd mix of the two languages.

And then there’s Keith. Beautiful, wonderful, Keith. Lance forces his boyfriend to train numerous times so he doesn’t waste away entertaining Lance, but the two of them don’t spend any less time together. Each night they stay up a little later than they should, Lance recounting the day’s events and Keith listening intently, a smile ever present on his face. On days where Keith doesn’t want to train, or refuses to despite Lance insisting he’s okay to be on his own for a while, he spends the day with Lance, and the two of them wander the castle halls, talking; Keith carrying Lance, and Lance pointing things out as they go.

It’s a wonderful balance, and everyone enjoys spending the time with Lance. Lance enjoys it too; he’s no longer the subject of pity, but rather a friend who needs to heal, with friends who are more than willing to help.

He starts to learn how to love himself.

///

“How’s it feel?”

Lance wriggles his toes, shifts his weight.

“Weird.”

Pidge laughs. “You’re gonna have to get used to it again. But how’s the sizing? And the general workability?”

“Did you know I broke my left leg once and so it’s always been shorter than my right? So this leg is too long.” Lance points at the mechanical appendage.

“Seriously?” Pidge asks, looking up from where she tinkers with the metal.

“Nah, I’m just screwing with you.”

“I knew it.” Hunk pipes up, running a few more commands on the computer that’s hooked up to Lance’s prosthetic.

“Fuck you,” Pidge inserts, flicking Lance’s metal shin.

“Pidge.” Lance says suddenly, “I _felt_ that.”

Pidge beams proudly. “I know you did.”

“Guys, I can’t thank you enough. This is so-” Lance breaks off, at a loss for words. He waves his arms about. “Cool?”

“Yeah, well,” Pidge twists something into place in the metal calve, “you saved my life.” She shrugs as she stands up, but her smile is ever-present.

“I’d do it again,” Lance replies, ruffling Pidge’s hair.

Pidge smirks, knocking into Lance playfully. “Now go show everyone else.”

Lance inhales deeply, taking a test step. He lets the breath escape, trying to dispel all of his sudden insecurity.

Lance wobbles on the first step, his body trying to remember how to function with the missing limb being returned.

“It’s not final, but this should do for now,” Pidge says, “I want to do a little more work on it to see if I can hook it up a little differently, but you can walk, you can fight, you can start banging Keith again-”

“Okay!” Lance interrupts, feeling his face warm. He’d thought no one had noticed him pulling away from Keith. “I’ll keep that in mind, you gremlin.”

Pidge smiles, the mirth sliding from her face to be replaced with a sincerity. “C’mon, let’s go show everyone.”

Lance takes a few more steps, feeling himself grow back into the rhythm of walking. It’s a little bit lopsided, but he’s suddenly having fun, a smile coming to his face as he tries to steady his gait.

“Let’s go, loser, traipse later.” Pidge calls, “c’mon.”

Lance looks up at her, beaming. “Coming.”

Hunk finally looks up from the computer, reaching down to Lance’s leg to unplug the last of wires. “You look great, buddy.”

“Thanks, Hunk,” Lance replies, turning to Hunk. The two share a look, Lance’s filled with gratitude for more than just the compliment, and Hunk’s with contentedness at his friend being able to literally get back on his feet.

“Pull down your pant leg, Lance,” Pidge says, and Lance turns to her before taking a few more unsteady steps. He’s hobbling haphazardly then, gathering Pidge in a hug.

“Thanks, Pidgey.”

“Yeah, well.” Pidge says, returning the embrace, “like I said, it’s literally the least I can do.”

Lance pulls back, still smiling. “Shall we?”

Hunk and Pidge flank Lance as he makes his way down the hall to the lounge where the rest of the team is waiting. They’re aware that Hunk and Pidge have been building Lance’s new appendage, but they have yet to see anything - the two tech-and-engineering-geniuses had insisted on keeping the final product a surprise, even from Lance.

When the trio reach the door, Lance pauses, suddenly nervous. He fidgets with his fingers for a second before whipping around to look at Pidge and Hunk. “I’m sorry,” he starts.

“No-” Pidge tries, but Lance shakes his head, pressing on.

“I’m sorry I pulled all that stupid stuff from earlier. I just… y’know. I’m a little screwed up sometimes. Just… this means a lot. Your support means a lot. You guys just _being_ there.” Lance reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck. “I just… thanks.”

“Dude, shut up.” Pidge smiles, socking Lance lightly on the arm.

“Yeah man. You’d do the same for us. Don’t thank us.” Hunk adds, his big palm coming to squeeze Lance’s shoulder.

Lance sniffles dramatically, though it’s not entirely fake, gives a watery smile, and faces the door again. He takes the step that will trigger the automatic opening, and the door slides smoothly open.

Four heads swivel toward the door, and six sets of eyes settle on Lance.

“Leg,” Lance says, lifting his new appendage.

Allura smiles warmly, relieved, and Coran twirls his moustache around a finger, content. “Looking good, Lance.”

Shiro comes and issues his standard pat on Lance’s shoulder, asserting a few words of congratulations, and then there’s only Keith left, hanging back a few inches from the other three.

So Lance cocks his head and gives a lopsided smile, “hey.”

Keith huffs a small laugh, and then he’s coming closer to gather Lance in a hug.

“You okay?” Keith asks, pressing his face against Lance’s front.

“Yeah,” Lance says into Keith’s hair, “I’m okay.”

“I love you,” Keith says next, and Lance smiles.

“I love you, too.”

“Stop being gross,” Pidge says after a minute, “let me show everyone your leg!”

Lance laughs and pulls Keith under an arm. “Lookit this,” Lance says, and then Pidge is fluttering around him and pointing things out.

“Shoe off!” she demands, so Lance kicks it off and pulls up his pant leg again.

And suddenly, Lance can smile without faking it again.

**Author's Note:**

> I have been absent for a very long time because 1) I went on vacation and came back to a huge homework load 2) i am a tired child 3) I meant to finish this before 2018, but when I didn't I lost insp and started writing a whole bunch of other things 4) I meant to finish before season 5 but that also didn't happen 5) I haven't been able to get many of my wips past half-done 6) am trying to clear out my WIPs but a lot of them are from before season 3, 4, and 5 so they're screwed up chronologically
> 
> But alas, I am back again! And have several new pieces in the works. Let's hope they're out sometime this month - spring break starts on the 16th, so I should have time to write (watch me just not)
> 
> I am sorry for making the story so dark - I just figured that if someone is already feeling sort of insignificant, they'd probably feel even worse if they were suddenly unable to contribute. As for the bit on serotonin; not 100% sure that was all correct, but whatcha gon do?
> 
> I meant to post the one about klance having a family next in the one shot series, but I lost insp :,)
> 
> Also shoutout to me for making this my longest oneshot to date - 9.7k (which is p pathetic there are people writing 50k on the daily but bear with me)!


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